


Hands

by PsychicBananaSplit



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Hands, Other, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 03:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychicBananaSplit/pseuds/PsychicBananaSplit
Summary: I have used my hands for my entire life, just as many had before me, and many will after.





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> this is an abandoned school project for my honors ela class. i have no excuses.  
i wanted to write something about adam parrish's hands and ronan's relationship (if you don't know, both characters come from the raven cycle series, and if you're interested in my works, you have to check it out) and we had to write about the part of ourselves that describe us the most, and i chose my hands.  
kinda weird.  
also, on a side note, five people in my class wrote about their feet.

I have used my hands for my entire life, just as many had before me, and many will after. My hands help guide my way in dark nights, and they are sure as they grip onto a pen. They know what I want and deliver, whether it be by piano or typewriter or pencil and paper. Melodies and poetry alike flow from these nimble fingers. 

Though, at times, they fail me.

When I am nervous, they are at fault for breaking into a cold sweat and wringing each other into knots. My hands clench into white-knuckled fists when I’m anxious, knobbed and guarded with silence like an armor of barbed wire, chasing everyone away with violent lashes. They are at fault for deceiving others, and are at fault for self-inflicted torture.

But they protect me. My barbed wire is almost like a second skin, clinging to my blind spots and where I can’t hear or where I can’t run from. My eyes and ears and legs fail me, but my hands do not. 

In the future, I plan to hold the first copy of my book in my hands. I want to hold my hopes and dreams when they become tangible. I want to hold the hand of my soulmate in my hand, and, trust me, I’m not one to believe in true love. I want to hold them, whenever they come, because if I find The One for me, then it would be like holding light in the palm of my hand. I know that I’m too young for these thoughts. But sooner or later my thoughts will turn to dust and blow away, forever forgotten, and I want them on paper before they do.

I trust my hands to hold my three worlds; the one I’m having right now, the one I long to have, and the one that I’m meant to have. I want to leave this world behind me, and whichever world I have next, I doubt I’d mind.

And there is nothing and no-one better to help me on my journey than my hands.


End file.
